


it’s gonna be a sight to see

by Anonymous



Series: starkerotic's fic collection [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Marriage Proposal, Weddings, and here we are, idk this was just supposed to be a response to an ask meme i reblogged, what shouldve been 300 words at most clocked in at just under 1.9k
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 04:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20464943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Marry me,” he breathes out before his brain catches up with his mouth. (The press still has regular field days, thanks to his inability to censor himself; Pepper laments every press outing.)





	it’s gonna be a sight to see

**Author's Note:**

> **   
_12\. is there a wedding? what was the proposal like? any kind of honeymoon?_   
**
> 
> this got out of hand and turned into a whole ass mess of a ficlet, im sorry, simple answers are apparently not within my questionable talents

The proposal had been planned from the tiniest detail, the ring designed by Tony himself (because who else can he trust with such an important task; Peter will cherish anything Tony gives him, he knows, but something of Tony’s own creation? The boy will love it beyond anything).

Their anniversary is two months away and that’s it - that’s the night Tony has chosen, the night he’ll ask Peter to stay with him forever, officially and all; he’s even pre-booked a private reservation in the mezzanine level at  _ L’Artusi _ , Peter’s favorite. They’re in the kitchen (largely unused until Peter had moved in last year, after he’d graduated - top of his class, naturally - from MIT), Peter picking through the groceries JARVIS has had delivered for them, a cookbook spread open on the island. He has flour on his cheek that matches the flour on his hands as he kneads out dough for the dumplings ( _ ”You’ve never had homemade chicken and dumplings? JARVIS, we have to fix this!” _ ), his lower lip caught between his teeth as he concentrates on getting it just right ( _ ”You can’t have them come out too thick or they won’t get done all the way through.” _ ), one stubborn strand of hair swooping down over his forehead, and Tony has never felt more in love with anyone than in this moment.

“Marry me,” he breathes out before his brain catches up with his mouth. (The press still has regular field days, thanks to his inability to censor himself; Pepper laments every press outing.)

“Hm?” Peter is still focused on the dough, on rolling out the perfectly-shaped dumpling, and this is Tony’s blessing, the chance to keep the words to himself until The Night ( _ it’s an important night, it deserves capitalization, _ he reasons with himself), so-

“Marry me,” Tony repeats and- Okay, yes, he can see why Pep is always so exasperated with him.

Peter looks up, his lips parted, bottom one just slightly pinker than normal. “You- What?” The dumpling on the countertop is slightly mashed in, fingertips pressing harder than necessary as he stares at Tony.

_ Third time’s the charm, _ Tony thinks. “Marry me.” He moves, shifts around the island to gently wrap his hands around the younger’s wrist, threads their fingers together, flour and dough transferring onto his clean hands. “Your ring’s at May’s - we can go get it, if you need it, if you want the down-on-one-knee shebang right now,” he adds as Peter continues staring. Tony isn’t certain he’s even breathing. “I just-”  _ Love you, want to spend the rest of my life with you, want you to have my last name - or I’ll take yours, as long as we’re  _ ** _together_ ** _ for the rest of our lives. _ Tony had planned out an entire speech (edited and approved by May Parker), but none of the words he’s been practicing for the last four months come to him in the moment. “I love you, Pete. Marry me. Please.” His voice is hoarse; he sounds like a dying man pleading for the last drop of water in the desert.

Floured hands retreat from his, and Tony panics, closes his eyes and thinks  _ it was too soon, I should’ve waited, should’ve kept the ring on me,  _ ** _something_ ** _ , _ but they don’t go far, rising to cup Tony’s face, and Peter’s thumbs swipe over Tony’s cheekbones, painting flour over them. “ _ Tony _ ,” Peter whispers, and when the older man opens his eyes, he’s  _ blinded _ by the happiness in Peter’s, whiskey hue lightened to honey and sunlight, his smile  _ radiant  _ and beautiful and perfect. “Tony,” he laughs, and tears are shining his eyes. “ _ I love you _ .”

*

Tony’s life has been spotlighted in its entirety, and he honestly expects his wedding to Peter to be the same ( _ Wedding of the Decade, _ it’s headlined - and, honestly, that Tony Stark’s wedding isn’t given the title of  _ Wedding of the Century _ is just an insult), no matter what measures they take to keep the event  _ on the down-low _ , as Peter says.

Tony and Peter have already taken care of the marriage license (and isn’t that  _ something _ ), and Tony is looking into security for the venue, doubled from any usual event he’s involved in, planning and designing tech to disable all video and photography equipment not approved of by Tony himself. 

“Tony.” Pepper is as composed as ever, not a hair frizzed or out of place as she looks over her appointment book (Tony’s appointment book, potato, patahto) and gives him an unimpressed look when he offers a grunt in response, head bowed over his worktop, schematics and blueprints and mechanical bits strewn all around him. “Tony!”

“What?” He looks up, oil and grease smudges on his nose, down his arms. “How did you get in here? Didn’t I lock the doors? J, what the hell.”

“Go get cleaned up,” she orders. “You have an important meeting in less than two hours.” Her heels click as she turns and walks away. “JARVIS, make sure he showers, will you?”

_ “Of course, Miss Potts.” _

“Whose side are you on here?” complains Tony, scowling up at the ceiling.

_ “It is a rather urgent meeting, sir. I think you’ll find that I’m on yours, once you arrive.” _

“Who designed you to be this cryptic?” Tony mutters, even as he rises, tugs his shirt off as he heads upstairs to the  _ en suite.  _ Peter’s clothes from this morning (one of Tony’s  _ Black Sabbath _ tees and a scrap of lace and satin that Tony  _ vividly _ remembers removing with his teeth) are strewn across the floor, and Tony smiles, nudging his jeans and underwear down to join them. “J, call Peter for me, will you?” His hand is already reaching for his cock, memories of the morning rushing back of Peter writhing against the shower tiles, mouth agape as Tony ate him out, fingering him to a screaming orgasm, release washing away down the drain as quickly as it hit the shower wall.

_ “Mister Parker is unavailable at the moment, I’m afraid, sir.” _

Tony frowns, fingers lightly grasping his length. “Peter’s never ‘unavailable’. Is he alright?”

_ “More than, sir. He simply does not have the time to… indulge you, at the moment,” _ the AI replies.

And that is…  _ suspect _ , to say the least, but Tony shrugs it off, steps into shower stall, leans against the exact spot he’d leaned this morning for Peter to return the favor, dropping to his knees and letting Tony grip his wet hair, fuck into his mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of his throat with each thrust until he came, Peter struggling to swallow it all, not wanting to waste a drop.  _ (”Such a good boy for me, baby, god, I love you.”) _

His grip tightens as the water turns on, the perfect temp, slicking his skin and allowing him to fuck into his fist a little easier.

(Tony comes in less than five minutes, memories of gorgeous eyes staring intently up at him, impossibly long lashes clumped together by water droplets, a raspy  _ love you, Daddy _ in his ears.)

*

To be fair, Tony’s still a bit fucked from his orgasm, so when Happy stops outside of  _ New York City Hall _ , Tony isn’t immediately suspicious.

“Straighten your tie, Tony. Honestly,” huffs Pepper, reaching over to do it for him, but her voice is  _ fond _ , as always, so Tony doesn’t think she’s as annoyed as she’s pretending to be. She pulls back, pushes her fingers through the front of his hair, presumably to fix it from whatever horror she perceives is there, and then gives a nod of approval. “Good,” she nods, then Happy opens her car door and she slips out, Tony following.

It’s when they’re  _ inside _ , traversing staircases and hallways - when he sees  _ May  _ and MJ and Ned standing in front of an anxious Peter - that it  _ clicks _ .

“Is this okay?” Peter rushes forward, stops just short of Tony’s reach, his lips dark pink with the way he’s been chewing at them (and Tony  _ would _ try to get him out of the habit, but they look so  _ lovely _ like this, like Tony has just used and abused them and-). “Is it okay? I didn’t- I was gonna ask, but it- I wanted to surprise you because I know you’ve been worrying about reporters and trying to find security to keep people from crashing our- I just… I wanted something  _ small _ and  _ just us _ and the people we love,” the boy blurts out, looking a little miserable. “I can- We can still do the bigger thing, if you want, because you’re  _ Tony Stark _ , and I know it’s what’s expected of you, but I-”

_ This is what I’m comfortable with. Please don’t be mad. _

MJ, a vision in a flowered dress and combat boots, is shaking her head behind Peter, rolling her eyes, but she glares at Tony, as if  _ daring _ him to reject Peter. Ned, decked out in a slightly ill-fitting suit with a 1970s collar, practically has hearts in his eyes.

May is staring at Tony, her own eyes a bit narrowed, as she waits for his response; he has no doubt that Pep and Happy are doing the same behind him.

“Peter.” Tony takes the small step forward, lifts his hands to cup his fiancé’s face in his palms, presses their foreheads together, his lips turned up in a slight smile. “Peter, when have I ever done anything that’s expected of me?” Peter’s lips part on an inhale, his eyes closing, his exhale shaky. Tony lowers his voice, keeping his words just for Peter. “I’d marry you in a cave in the middle of the desert in Afghanistan, baby.” Peter breathes out a quiet chuckle, making Tony’s heart beat a little faster. “I’d marry you in front of a crowd of people and a priest and reporters or in City Hall, in front of a clerk, with five people and JARVIS as our witnesses.”

_ “How kind of you to include me, sir,” _ JARVIS pipes up from Tony’s StarkWatch. Peter can’t stop his laugh, loud and echoing in the mostly empty corridor. Tony sees the three behind Peter relax, just enough to let Tony know that they were concerned with his possible reaction, hears Happy murmur something quietly to Pepper.

“So it’s okay?”

Tony hums. “More than okay, baby.” He pulls back, just enough to get a better angle to look the younger man in the eyes. “Let’s go make all the reporters cry that they missed the  _ Wedding of the Century _ .”

“They said  _ decade _ , Tony,” Pepper, spoilsport that she is, informs him. “Get over it.”

Beams of sunlight shine in from the grand windows, surrounding Peter in a fitting way, a circle of light and warmth. He grasps Tony’s hand, tangles their fingers together, and together, they move.

*

_US Weekly_’s next cover features a photo of Tony relaxing in a lounge chair on the sand, tinted sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose as Peter is captured leaning down, pressing a kiss to his smiling lips.


End file.
